


A Morning with Mr. Han

by michiiGii



Series: Good Morning, RFA [3]
Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Domestic, F/M, Showers, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 15:50:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9827297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/michiiGii/pseuds/michiiGii
Summary: Your morning routine with your rich, sensual husband.Happens after the After Story.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Protip: Showering saves water. Unless you get distracted.

He always set an alarm, but it was often the morning sun that awakened Jumin.  He had an east-facing window in the bedroom, and the rising sun’s light tended to rouse him before his alarm could.

Before, he had felt lonely on some mornings, waking up with only the sun to greet him.  Then, even Elizabeth the Third had not been enough to satisfy his solitude.  But now, that was no longer the case.  The young director rolled over in bed, away from the bright, morning light, and opened his eyes to one of his favourite sights:  you, his beloved wife, sleeping soundly beside him.

A small smile played on his lips; you were beautiful as you lay there, the sunlight bringing out the lighter tints in your hair, your breath even and slow as you continued to dream.  His mornings were that much brighter now that he had the honour of waking up beside you.

As was his custom, without touching you, Jumin silently got out of bed, letting you sleep a little longer.    He moved first to the bathroom, then briefly into his walk-in closet, before going into yours, choosing your clothing for the day.  For him, it was easy; a suit, and a shirt, perfectly pressed from the dry cleaner’s.  The suit would already be on a hanger, and his shirts were always folded neatly by his maid service.  Perfection.

For you, however, your husband liked to take a little time.  What did you wear the day before?  He should choose something in a completely different colour and style.  His wife was well-provided for, from catered meals to a varied wardrobe, and he would have the world know it.  He loved you in dresses.  But he had chosen dresses for you three days in a row; perhaps you would like a change.  Not to mention that today was your day off; you might want for something more casual.

This day, Jumin selected two outfits; one, a blouse and skirt set, the other, one of your favourite t-shirts and jeans.  He always chose two outfits, and always from differing styles, granting you the final say.  He liked doing things for you, but he also didn’t want you feeling confined.  He had flirted too close to controlling you, back when you first met; there had been danger, then, but you were safe, now.  Since then, he had tried to bend and grant you more independence, but being coddled as he had been, growing up, it was a definite effort.  That childhood, coupled with being single for so long, not to mention always being in authority, made it so that Jumin had to consciously remember taking differing thoughts and opinions into account with his decisions.

Jumin still wanted to wait on you hand and foot, and that included dressing you up, but he made sure to give you options.  He truly did try to choose things that you liked, and more often than not, he guessed right.  But he knew he still made mistakes, even if they were few and far between.  It was rare when you went into your closet for a third option, these days, but when you did, it felt too much like failure, to him, and it always stirred up his resolve to do better the next day.

Outfits chosen, Jumin put the clothes down on a chair before moving to your side.  You were still asleep, lying on your side, facing where Jumin had been.  Tenderly, he stroked your hair, calling your name in a low voice.  You stirred slightly at his touch, slowly coming back to the world.  Kneeling down at your bedside, he took one of your hands and trailed kisses from your palm, up your arm, then to your shoulder murmuring your name between kisses.  You started to move, your eyes fluttering open.

“…Jumin?” you said sleepily, as your husband continued pressing his lips along your shoulder to your neck, “Mm…husband?”

“It is morning, wife,” he replied, whispering into your ear, gently peeling the bedsheets away from you, “Come back to me.”

“I’m always with you,” you smiled, feeling his arms curl underneath your body, holding you against him.

Still not quite awake, it isn’t until you felt the air move past you that you realized he was carrying you.  Ah, yes, nothing but the best from C&R’s director.  You were cold, you noted drowsily, then remembered with some embarrassment that you never actually got redressed after your activities from the night before.

“Can you stand?” Jumin asked, and, opening your eyes properly, you saw that he had carried you to the master bathroom.  It occurred to you that his chest was bare against your skin; he must have fallen asleep right after, too.

After nodding your assent to his question, the world tilted a little as your husband placed you down, your feet meeting cool tiles. Murmuring that he was getting your clothes, Jumin kissed your forehead before discretely giving you a little alone time in the bathroom.

Reentering the bedroom, Jumin made a quick call to the kitchen staff, informing them that you were both up and would be ready for breakfast within the hour.  He doubted they would be unprepared, even if you exited the bedroom announced, but he wanted your morning to go smoothly, and a 10-second phone call was no difficult task.  Yawning openly, he stretched languidly, a panther rousing himself after a nap.  It was going to be a busy day…but at least he had you to start it with.

Turning back on his heel, the young heir scooped into his arms your clothes, and stepped back into the bathroom.  You were already in the shower, finally wide awake.  Hanging the clothes up on hooks on the wall specifically for that purpose, Jumin smiled warmly at you.  Your beautiful form always entranced him, but now…now you were _wet_ , the light glistening against your skin, and steam rising alluringly from your body.  You caught him admiring you, watching through the glass shower walls, and couldn’t help a slight flush in your cheeks that had nothing to do with the hot water streaming down onto you.

“…What?” you asked, when he didn’t look away.  He was always so bold…

“May I join you, dear wife?” he asked in reply, walking forward confidently until he loomed before you, not unfriendly but definitely a little intimidating.  Had he been wearing a suit, he would be ‘casually’ adjusting one of his cuffs.  But he was not.  He wasn’t wearing anything.

“Only if you behave,” you reply, your teasing scolding a little undercut by how softly you said it.  When Jumin got like this, it was so easy to lose one’s nerve!  No wonder master businessmen rarely turned his contracts down; Jumin could conjure a way about him that made one want to listen and submit.

Smiling coyly by way of response, Jumin opened the shower door and stepped in.

His staring at you was really just his way of teasing you.  You showered together most mornings, anyway.  He was a busy man, but he was also an affectionate one, and he tried his best to spend as much time with you as possible.  With a schedule like his, those moments were hard to come by, and you both knew it.  If he could steal a few precious minutes with you in the morning, literally showering you in luxury at the start of your day, then he would.  And he did.

You took turns washing each others’ hair.  He loved any and every excuse for skinship, and what better way than in the shower?  He was always careful as he worked shampoo and conditioner through your hair, and there was a certain lavishness in feeling your fingers run along his scalp, returning the favour.

Next came soap and suds; he worked fragrant body wash all over you while you enjoyed a massage from the shower.  As he ran his hands across your limbs and body, he noted the little marks here and there on your skin.  There were a few from the night before:  a kiss mark over your left breast, and a small one on your right collarbone.   He saw a few yellow marks that were still fading from past nights; of these blemishes, he was a little proud.   _These_ were intentional. The little whimpering sounds you made when he kissed you so were quite stimulating, for the both of you.  Smiling a little, he touched them tenderly before moving on to the rest of your body.  

Then you turned and he noticed a bite mark just behind your shoulder. _That_ one he frowned at.  Carefully running sudsy fingers over it, he wiped a small bit of blood away, and detected a slight roughness along the crescent pattern of the mark.  He noticed you flinch slightly at the touch and cursed silently.  He had broken your precious skin.

“Forgive, my love,” he rumbled softly, placing the lightest of kisses just below the bite, “I was too rough with you.”

“It felt good at the time…” you replied jokingly, recalling when it had happened.  The memory of Jumin’s trembling hands gripping you, and warmth filling you deep within, flashed in your mind’s eye, and again you felt that blush starting.  “…It was an accident, husband.”

Jumin held you close for a moment, silently contemplating.  Perhaps it was because his history of constantly hiding his emotions, but he was occasionally overly-intense in his lovemaking.  It didn’t happen every time, but definitely more often than he was comfortable with. He was the master of control in every other aspect of his life, but when he was in the throes of passion, somehow things like this happened.  

And he hated it.

His stomach turned every time he saw proof of his weakness.  Of his inability to control his baser urges.

You were his _wife_.  His morning and his evening, his light and his joy.  He treasured you above all else, even above himself; he should take better care of you.  He should treat you as the queen that you were.  And yet…

Taking a deep breath, Jumin continued with his ministrations, promising himself to do better.  You had had this talk with him, many times before.  You were well aware of how hard he took these little, passion-induced injuries of yours.  You knew they happened because he loved you so very much, and was so unused to expressing it.  You knew he was sincere every time he apologized.  And you always pointed out that he was improving.  Looking back at your wedding night, recalling how you had been all but bedridden the next day, Jumin had to admit to himself that he had come a long way.

And somewhere, deep in the darkest corners of his heart, he did feel the slightest twinge of self-satisfaction.

That was not to say that you did not do your own share of marking.  He did not need to look down to know there were kiss marks peppered across his chest, and scratches all over his back.  Some, you had done on purpose.  Others, he had intentionally provoked.

The little demon in his heart grinned.

Getting down onto his knees, Jumin got started on washing your legs, smiling slightly when you giggled as he washed your feet.   _So sensitive…_ It was then that your husband noticed a few new bruises on your thighs.  These confused him, and he called attention to them.

“I do not remember making these,” he said, slicking back a bit of wet hair from his eyes to see better, “They are too small for my mouth…”

You looked down to where he was frowning, and saw the small dark spots on your skin, spaced irregularly across the tops and insides of your thighs.  

_That’s strange…_

It took you a moment, but you figured it out before he did.

“Ah…” You adjusted his hand slightly, turning it just so.  His fingers and thumb aligned perfectly with the spots.

Seeing how his hand was placed, Jumin thought back to a moment when he was pushing you harder against his mouth, wanting you to cry out louder, refusing to let you writhe away.

“I…ah…” he looked embarrassed, “My apologies.  I did not realize how tightly I was holding you.”   _My behaviour is not tracking well, this morning._

“No, no,” you looked down and away, before adding a little shyly, “I rather liked it…”

 _So coquettish…_ Jumin thought, seeing your face and allowing himself a short bark of laughter.  Deliberately, he caught your eye and held your gaze, rising to his full height.

“Rather early to seduce me, is it not, wife?” he asked, crooking a finger on your chin and tilting your face up, slightly.  The shower’s water dripped through his hair and down his face.  You could remember seeing similar droplets forming from exertion, not too long ago.

“That was not my intent,” you replied, teasingly stroking one finger down from the bridge of his nose to the tip, “Is that a complaint, dearest husband?”

He kissed you by way of answering, slow and sensuous, savouring your taste.  No, that was definitely not a complaint.  

But he only kissed you the once.

“…there is a meeting that I cannot miss, dear heart,” he sighed after a moment of thought, before indicating that it was your turn to wash him.  The meeting was with a dignitary that was only in the country for the day.  It would be impossible to reschedule, even for Assistant Kang.

“I understand,” you nodded reluctantly, getting started on his shoulders, “Perhaps another morning.”

After making sure that your husband was fresh and clean, the two of you got out of the shower together.  Jumin held your bathrobe open for you, making sure you were covered before he pulled on his own.  Getting dressed and dried was a two-person dance.  You took special pains to make sure every crease of his was crisp, and that there are no wrinkles in his shirt or suit.  He was tender with clothing you, stooping to kiss his favourite places before covering them, making sure everything was smoothed and comfortable before moving on to the next piece of clothing.  Both of you made sure all evidence of the night before was conscientiously hidden away, your mutual secrets.

Finally, Jumin let you pick your jewelry; it was only fair, considering he chose your outfit.  And as was his preference, you chose his cuff-links and tie.  Every morning, before breakfast, you must tie his tie.  Even before you had figured out how to tie it perfectly, he had preferred your knots.  It was the lone exception he had had to his perfectionism.  It was a sign of your presence, and seeing it in a chance reflection reminded him of you.  You might have bite marks that occasionally peeked out from behind a hem or collar, seen by only the most endeavoring observer, but everyone could see the knot you made.  

You were his.  But he was yours.  Tied to you irrevocably and without regret.

It was all he could hope to be worthy of you.

“Shall we, husband?” you asked him, once you finished securing the tie around his neck.

He hooked an arm with one of yours as he replied:

“Yes, darling wife, we shall.”

_-fin-_

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on michiiGii-writes.tumblr.com (Follow me!)


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